The Greatest Man to Ever Live...

Three years ago today, my father passed.  I decided this year to expand on the obituary that I wrote 3 years ago.  

(who knew it costs so much for an obituary, especially for someone who gave so much of his life to the city where his obituary was placed)

My father was born February 4, 1948 in Plainview, TX.  His family at the time were migrant workers who had made Plainview home for most of the year.  {EDITED FOR LENGTH because his whole story is for a book on Bad Mother Fuckers!!!} My father quit school in the 8th grade, joined the Army on his 17th birthday, and led Airborne soldiers in Vietnam before his 20th birthday as a SGT.  He was a Jumpmaster and toured Europe as a part of NATO joint jump exercises.  He always wanted to be a lifer, but being in Vietnam during the time of his reenlistment made it hard to stay.  His experiences stayed with him forever.

Upon his return from Vietnam, he moved to Fort Worth with some friends from the Army.  He went to college, worked for multiple manufacturing companies in Fort Worth and married my mother.  He played softball, golfed in a local league and moved up to lead positions, just never management.  He married my mother and they started a family. 

Some of my earliest memories of my dad are him coming through the door after work looking dead tired.  He would plop down on his recliner and flip his boots off.  It wouldn’t be very long before he was changed and back out of the door to coach whatever my brother Mike was doing at that time.  Once I was old enough he would bring me along.  My dad could coach absolutely anything.  Yes he was very knowledgeable about sports and athletics, but he was a leader and he knew how to make others better.  He did his best coaching in amateur boxing.  He coached the Plainview Boxing Club and led numerous young men to the Golden Gloves and even the Olympic trials in 4 years of coaching.  

I remember him driving all over town picking up guys who would be in gangs or selling drugs if they weren’t going to boxing practice and driving them about 3 miles away from the gym.  He would stop and tell the older guys to get out and start running.  He’d drive further in and stop and have a few more guys get out and he’d stop again, letting the boxers out a distance he knew would push them.  I was an asthmatic and skinny kid, but he would always hurry after he dropped the last guys off so he could still stop a few blocks away and let me run to practice too, always cheering me on. 

With the sound of bags being punched, ropes being jumped and young men breathing hard, I can still hear him yelling, “If there is one thing I hate, it’s Liars, Cheaters and Thieves!”  That has always stuck with me and did a lot for me in life.  Mike, my older brother, told me earlier that he remembers dad yelling that often and everywhere to everyone regardless of what he was coaching.  Every single person who spent time with my father as their coach was blessed. 

 A few years ago I asked him about why he liked coaching so much.  His answer was very surprising, but it let me know we had much more in common than we knew.  My dad said that out of all the horrific things he experienced in Vietnam, that the look on the children’s faces is what scarred him the most.  He said if he could offer help to any child in need he would.  When I spoke to my mother for this article, she expanded on this.  She told me, “he would just give, give, give and not expect anything in return.”  Of the two best characteristics she mentioned about my father, this was number one.  She said he has literally given the shirt off his back to a stranger.  I was lucky enough to see my dad in this light and when I first got married, I would tell my wife that I just want to be respected by everyone in town like my father.

At that age, I never would have guessed the countless hours of thankless service that it would require to garner that much respect.  My father wasn’t just respected for his philanthropy though.  My brother says his own career success was jump started by what he refers to as an internship working under my father.  My father worked at Cargill Meat Packing Plant in Plainview Texas for over 20 years.  He always seemed to be the natural leader of any group he was placed.  With an 8th grade education, he was always given the Lead, but never the actual paid position.  He didn’t let him deter him.  His level of effort would never change and his work ethic never faltered.  We were lower middle class, but no one ever realized that about us.  Many of my friends' parents worked with my father and they all looked at him as a manager.  I had friends whose parents worked with my dad and friends who my dad worked for.  Both of them talked about my father with so much respect.  I remember one Christmas he brought home enough bottles of liquor as presents from people at work, he could have started a bar.  My brother was fortunate to work at Cargill after his service in the Marine Corps.  He experienced that respect that people had for our father first hand.  My brother worked with management often and he said the standard he was expected to meet had been set by my father.  

My brother boxed for the Marine Corps Boxing team while he served.  Today he told me there was 1 guy that he just could not beat.  He was stationed in North Carolina, but remembered my dad always telling him that DOING just enough to get by was only going to GIVE him enough to get by and that wouldn’t be enough when it got tough.  He trained harder and gave more than he had and finally was able to beat the guy to take the top spot in that weight class.  He did the same while working at Cargill and did more than what was expected of him.  It helped him there and he still applies that today in his career and his life.

When my brother was out of the house and I was in my teenage years my father turned his volunteer time to the Special Olympics.  I didn’t even know this for many years.  He had been a boxing referee during his time as a coach and even judged matches with my mother.  Now with no children of his own to coach, he volunteered at the Special Olympic events and never even brought it up.  He was just that guy.

I think I saved the best for last.  When I asked my mom about writing this article her most passionate response about my father took me by surprise although it was obvious.  My mother said other than being a giver, “He was the best father I could have asked for my sons.”  She went on to say it was so natural to him and that he was so gentle and loving while being able to be stern and uncompromising when we needed it.  Anyone who knows me, knows my mom used to whoop our asses when we stepped out of line, but that a look of disappointment from my father was all we needed.  I remember him making my friends feel bad with that look.

My father taught me and my brother so much and gave up so much for us.  We are better men for it and we try to be the best fathers we can be for our children.  There are times where I wish I could still get his opinion on going about fixing something in the house or on a car, hell I wish I could just ask him for advice on anything right now.  With me getting better and stronger mentally and finally starting to step back out, I wish he was here to see it and enjoy it with me.  My heart hurts and misses him, but my mind tells me that he left me with more than enough to succeed in life and all things that matter.  I love you dad and I’ll do my best to hold to your standard.